


The Five Stages of Grief

by Walpurgisnacht



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa: Another Episode
Genre: Gen, What-If
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 07:48:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7426303
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Walpurgisnacht/pseuds/Walpurgisnacht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You know, in Another Episode we discover that Ultimate Despair captured a hostage for each of the participants in the first Mutual Killing Game. At this moment in time we don't know for sure the fate of many of them (except for Yuta Asahina, Taichi Fujisaki, Kanon Nakajima and Hiroko Hagakure).<br/>This story, as the title may vaguely suggest, tries to delve into the minds of the survivors when news coming from Towa City aren't exactly good.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Five Stages of Grief

**Denial**

 

“Is it...?”.

Togami nodded, his face devoid of emotion. He briefly bowed to the coroner and exited from the Future Foundation’s morgue. Probably didn’t even realize he was walking quicker.

“B-Byakuya-sama…”.

As expected Touko was outside, waiting for him.

“It’s Aloysius” he said curtly.

“I-I’m so sorry!”.

He just nodded and said he had to go back to the office, trying to evade the girl’s condolences.

_Aloysius is dead._

He tried quite hard to concentrate on the reports from Towa City, the news about the Remnants of Despair or the up-to-date body count; his mind raced back to Aloysius Pennyworth, the only victim he cared about.

Aloysius was dead and he couldn’t believe it.

When they found his father not a tear stained his face. Never had a true relationship with him and, when faced with his corpse, he just managed the proper respect for a dead person. Same with his mother, whose remains were still missing. He didn’t believe they would be found soon. She never was a mother, as in a  real  mother, so he felt no sadness or pity for her. Just a minute of silence, that’s what he had for her.

But Aloysius… that was another story entirely.

Since he had memories Aloysius was there at his side as his personal butler, even before becoming the true heir of the Togami Zaibatsu; in a world where the only valuable things were money and social status, Aloysius had been the closest thing Byakuya had for a parent. The old man went out of his way to give him the human warmness that was seen as something trivial by the environment he grew up in, often going against the orders of his mother before and his father after. In a flash of clarity Byakuya noted how the teachings of that man were not lost on him, even if they remained buried under many layers of detachment and indifference. Layers brought upon him by the brainwashing he received since he was born as “training” to become the Togami heir.

Now that he was gone, Togami had only a handful of confused and unknown sensations. Those and a news he couldn’t accept.

He got overwhelmed by an assault made of memories, memories of the moments they shared together. He felt the need to go away, not knowing where but knowing that he didn’t want to stay in his office. A sense of oppression took hold of his chest, making breathing difficult for him.

_Air. I need air._

He ran outside the Future Foundation’s main building and went to the only place he knew was deserted at that hour. Not that he did that consciously, as he acted like he was in a state of trance.

 

“Byakuya-sama…”.

“How did you find me?”.

Touko smiled and got closer to him: “I-It’s not like there are many places for the members of the Future Foundation to relax”.

Togami didn’t say anything, but he agreed with her: the giant complex that made up the Foundation had everything, from the staff’s apartments to mini-markets, laundries and whatever… but there was a shortage of somewhere to chill out. The only exception was a small piano bar, open all night long, where often he, Naegi, Fukawa, Kirigiri, Asahina and Hagakure went to have a moment’s peace, hoping to remember how it was like to be in their early twenties. Sometimes Byakuya played the piano that was there, he liked it, and that was the only way he had to try and forget what he found out just an hour before.

He kept on playing the melody, something he learned many years past, when he had to take piano lessons. A sweet, sorrowful song, quite fitting for the way he was feeling. A feeling he didn’t understand.

“Byakuya-sama… i-if there’s something I can do to help you…”.

He let Touko come closer, but he didn’t stop.

“I-I mean it…”.

His fingers pressed harder on the keys, making the melody go from sad to something furious and dark. He was frustrated, and the more the frustration grew the more he assaulted the piano. But it didn’t seem to have the soothing effect he hoped it would.

“B-Byakuya-sama?” she tried again, going as far as to place a hand on his shoulder.

That was it. The unstable floodgates of his mind exploded.

The cover slammed and an enraged scream echoed.

“B-Byakuya-sama!”.

He went limp on the piano, hands in his hair, growling in anger and sadness: things he didn’t know because nobody never explained how to face them. A Togami should not feel anything.

But if that was the case… then what does a Togami do when a pain so great comes forth? How does he deal with it, since he couldn’t put it off like an appointment? 

Touko’s slender arms wrapped him from behind, squeezing hard, very hard, with a kind of force he didn’t believe she could have.

“A-Aloysius is…”.

“I know” she said before he could finish.

“This is not possible. This can’t be true”.

“B-Byakuya…”.

“I… I can’t believe it. It can’t be happening, it can’t be happening  to me !”.

No way he could accept that.

When he was young, he believed Aloysius would stay with him forever, like something eternal that was going to guide his way for the rest of his life.  A immature, gentle thought which had been his companion during the infancy and someway never left, remaining inside of him.

In that moment Byakuya was a child again, a child not able to accept the certainty of death, not able to deal with the loss of the most important person.

Aloysius was dead, stealing that last and only fact.

“Unfortunately that’s not how it works” Touko whispered in his ear “d-death does not make distinctions… and you can’t never face it. Nor you can face the consequences”.

“I don’t know what to do” he said “I don’t know how to survive such a suffering… I didn’t know someone could suffer so much…”.

Touko clinged to him even more: “That’s because no one ever let you express your feelings” she said sweetly “but there’s not a right or wrong way to grieve…”.

His cheeks dampened and his glasses probably got foggy because his vision became blurry.

“If you want to cry or shout… do it. No one is going to judge you”.

He bit his lip, trying to keep whatever little of his mask of indifference remained. He failed.

He took hold of Touko’s hands and cried. For Aloysius, for himself, for all the lost times when he didn’t say he loved him.

He cried until his voice was no more.

 

*

 

**Anger**

 

Kyouko stopped for a moment in front of the door. On the other side there was his grandfather Fuhito, extracted not long ago from a half-dilapidated building in Towa City.

She was happy to see him. But, being a Kirigiri, she had to always maintain decency, so she imposed herself to keep control and not to behave too excessively.

She took a breath.

With the knob in her hand, she twisted. A weird trick made it like it was hot.

Fuhito Kirigiri was sitting at a table, not facing the entrance. His disheveled look, which she recognized from his ripped clothes, betrayed the bad things he probably went through.

“Who is it?” he asked, turning around. His eyes brightened when he saw his granddaughter: “Kyouko! You’re fine!”. A gaunt face and the wrinkles, more pronounced than she remembered, were a confirmation of her hypothesis.

He walked in her direction with a bit of effort, even limping a little.

The hug between them came out embarassed, for a reason she could not fathom but felt was between them and was ruining one of the few good moments since the end of the Killing Game.

They talked about what happened to him. Then the conversation died out.

Again Kyouko saw there was a strange air. Like something not clearly defined but hovering over their heads, making their reunion much less beautiful than expected.

She didn’t know what made her say “You know, dad is dead…”. She knew perfectly how difficult the relationship between Fuhito and Jin had been.

Oh, the relationship between Fuhito and Jin. Lots of pleasant things, like the father disowning the son because the latter refused to walk on the family path. Or the fact that the old man tried, and succeeded, in keeping her and Jin apart.

She wasn’t exactly sure about that, but she remembered the principal’s office at Kibougamine: the framed picture and the password on the computer were self-evident, very different from what she always heard about him. That her deadbeat father abandoned her, not caring about her future.

It was not easy for her to admit, but she reconsidered him and his actions as she understood Jin Kirigiri loved her with all his heart and never forgot her. Another thing not easy for her to admit was that, when Naegi left the room, she cried over his bones.

So she shocked herself when those words left her mouth of their own free will. Knowing it was a delicate matter, she could not understand why she said what she said.

“Really? Well, that’s the end heretics deserve” he spat while turning.

_...what?_

She had the briefest of temptations: grab him and make him face her again. She wanted to see the eyes of someone who could say something so… so…

She managed to stifle the impulse, not what caused it.

“Sorry, what did you say?”.

He took two steps and repeated himself: “It’s the end heretics deserve”.

When he turned again in her direction… a slap bent his face.

Kyouko was looking at him with furious, watery eyes: “How dare you speak of him like that! He was my father! YOUR SON! He’s dead, can’t you see? I saw with my very eyes what remained of his body!”.

He tried to counter but her voice got the better of him, continuing a speech never truly interrupted: “How in the hell can you say such cruel things? Do you value the good name of the Kirigiri clan more than your own flesh and blood? If you do, let me tell you that you’re despicable! Unworthy of being alive!”.

The more she screamed, the less what she said made sense. It was for the fun of screaming, of venting, of pouring out that black lump gripping her stomach.

A little piece of her soul, not able to do anything, was watching astonished as she unloaded. It was asking itself from where all that anger was coming from, anger directed at the man who raised her and, his faults and restrictions notwithstanding, managed to fill up the fatherly absence.

She hated him. With all her might.

Kyouko went for the door. A second before exiting, leaving behind Fuhito and a hand over his hurt cheek, the last straw: “Since you like playing with familial statuses… from now on I don’t have a grandfather anymore. I will live like I’m alone in the world, and considering what I heard today from you it’s better this way”.

She left, pouring wrath in her wake.

Never before she lost it so badly and so theatrically. Something broke inside her, making a huge noise and not caring about the repercussions.

She met a bit of solace when Makoto Naegi came up from the end of the hallway: “Kirigiri-san! You went and see… oh. You ok? You look terrible…”.

Not a word escaped her mouth when she hugged him, wringing him out like a sponge full of water.

That time she did not feel ashamed to cry in his presence.

 

*

 

**Bargaining**

 

In the great limbo of uncertainty that was her life, Touko had always had a fixed point: she despised her parents.

She had tried to garner her father’s approval and to be a good girl to appease both of her mothers, hoping to keep her bizarre family steady, with a semblance of balance. But she never got the love she longed for, and instead only fierce hate came to her. And that hate grew with every new form of abuse.

So she was sure she wouldn’t feel anything when, an hour ago, the Foundation’s coroner called her to recognize her parents’ corpses.

Certain that she would remain unfeeling, cold.

Instead she wound up sobbing in the women’s restroom. She wanted to stay alone and no one was to disturb her, not even Kirigiri or Asahina. She didn’t feel like she could trust them enough to explain her emotional turmoil.

True, they too received terrible news that day (or, in the case of Kyouko, good news suddenly becoming terrible). So did many other at the Foundation. But her situation was so weird, so absurd that she could not make a sense of it herself.

_I should be hating them and here I am, crying for their deaths!_

Not a single memory of her childhood did not make her suffer: a slap was never just a slap, a stain on her good dress meant no supper, a slightly worse grade at school was enough to make both her mothers mad (and her father never was there to soften the blow, not once). She felt justified in hating them, and instead she was huddled against the bathroom’s wall, head between her legs, remembering that it was the same as when she was young. The exact same scene happened when one of her mothers put her in the closet for three days for whatever reason.

_You’re a bad girl_ they always said, and she persuaded herself it was true even if she did not understand why; she tried to make up for it, to be a good girl, heaven knows if she tried! All for naught, the sinister mark ended up being accepted as a part of her.

She was not  _enough_ .

_If only I had been a better daughter… if only I tried harder… ___

Maybe… maybe if she had been the perfect daughter they wanted… maybe they would not have hated her.

They wouldn’t have mistreated her. They wouldn’t have left her at Kibougamine during the holidays. If she had been the perfect daughter they would have loved her, praised her, and now she would weeping for having lost a loving family and not three tyrants (she though they probably were happy when she exited their lives).

“Someone’s here?”.

A voice from outside pulled her back to reality.

“I-I’m coming out!”.

“...Fukawa-chan?”.

“K-Komaru…?”.

She slightly opened the bathroom’s door, facing Komaru Naegi eye to eye. Her red eyes seemed to imply she learnt about her parents not too long ago.

“S-Sorry, I’ll be leaving now” Touko said. But something, or better yet  _someone_ , took hold of her wrist.

“F-Fukawa-chan, wait a minute!”.

“I-I must go…”.

“Fukawa-chan, please…”. Touko turned and faced Komaru. They looked at each other for a while, then the older girl spoke: “I-I’m sorry for your parents…”.

“And I’m sorry for yours. Makoto told me…”.

“Don’t be. They were terrible people”.

Komaru seemed distressed hearing that: she knew something about Touko’s past, enough to understand her actions and sometimes-a-bit-excessive reactions.

Nevertheless…

“B-But… but they’re dead…”.

“And it’s all my fault”.

“W-What? That’s not true!”.

She got free from Komaru’s grasp, heading for the door: “L-Look, I must go back to work now” she stammered “and y-you have someone to grieve for too. I’m n-not more special than anyone…”.

“Fukawa-chan, please!” Komaru screamed, blocking her with a hug from behind. Touko stood still before the door, freaking out for what had just happened.

“You ARE special. You are special  _to me_. A-And I can vent with Makoto later. You will keep all of this bottled up and… and it’s not fair!”.

She felt the tears welling up again, but forced herself not to turn around.

“And most of all you don’t need to blame yourself”.

“I do!” she snarled “they were horrible people that always abused me but… if I had been a better daughter… m-maybe they wouldn’t have hated me…”. She collapsed on her knees, head almost against the door: “And if I had been a good girl like they wanted… maybe they would have loved me” she said sobbing “They died thinking I am trash… I f-failed them!”.

“Stop right now! Now you listen to me!” Komaru said while grabbing her and forcing her to face her eyes “You have nothing to be blamed for, ok? Nothing. They were human beings and they didn’t deserve a death so cruel but” she sobbed “they put you through hell. They destroyed your self-esteem and convinced you of being useless, but it’s not true. You’re a wonderful person who deserves all the love in the world”.

Those words were like a hammer to her face, leaving her completely stunned.

“If it wasn’t for you I would have died in Towa City, and Makoto would be alone now! We both owe you our lives and I doubt I will be able to show my gratitude in my lifetime. I’m really happy to have met you and to consider you a friend”.

Friend. That blasted word again. So hated, so desired.

“You shouldn’t say to yourself  _if I had been a better girl they would have loved me_ . You should say  _if they had been better people they would have loved me and I wouldn’t have suffered_ .

Touko found herself sobbing in Komaru’s arms. They were both crying, but the younger girl continued to whisper soothing words in her ear.

 

When she came out of the restroom, Komaru had already left. She had told her she needed to regain her composure and urged her to go back to her brother. When the other girl left, she promised to never give up.

_I will try_ was what she said. It was not easy to convince yourself you had some kind of value, not with just a reassuring conversation. But Komaru was beside her and her encouragement was enough, She thought  _perhaps one day I’ll be able to tell her_.

“Touko”.

She twisted to her right. Togami was near the elevators, apparently well enough despite the bad news of the day.

She came closer and tried to dry her eyes with the back of her hand: “I-I’m sorry Byakuya-sama, I-I must look terrible…”.

She couldn’t finish the phrase because he captured her with his arm and pulled her close.

“They don’t deserve your tears” he said. Of course he knew about her family and her childhood. Touko stifled a hiccup and he went on: “You’re not a bad person, Touko. You’re a good person who lived through horrible things”.

That time Byakuya-sama didn’t complain when his shirt became wet.

 

*

 

**Depression**

 

Aoi Asahina’s bedroom suddenly became cold like the Arctic Circle.

“No! No! No! It’s not true! You’re lying Fukawa, you’re lying!”.

“P-Please stop shaking me, you’re hurting me! I’m sorry Asahina, believe me. I’m r-really sorry… but I’m telling the truth: I saw your b-brother Yuta… when he died. If you don’t believe m-me ask Naegi’s sister, she was there too…”..

Aoi’s objections grew dimmer by the second, in the end becoming unintelligible sounds. The weak attempts by Touko to console her resulted in nothing.

The Writer decided to left her with her sorrow.

A lot of sorrow.

Asahina started to throw things to the wall, to pound the hands before and the head after against the same wall, to damn all the kami for what they did to her.

Subsequently, as it came, the sorrow went away. Leaving depression in its place.

It did not go away entirely, to tell the truth. Even in the worst moments she always felt a faint ache at the center of her chest, although not comparable to the first reaction.

In the following days Aoi Asahina never left her apartment. She mainly killed time by observing the ceiling in a hollow manner, her mind lost in pleasant memories. Sometimes she pecked at the dishes brought to her by that saint Naegi, who of course was very worried about her emotional state. In the beginning he even tried to enter to have a little chat, just to lift her spirits up, but her continued and progressively more rude refusals made him change his mind very quickly. He got used to leave the plates next to the door after telling her and leaving her alone.

She was acting like a hikikomori, something that their ruined world couldn’t afford to have.

_Feh. I’m keeping alive a tradition that doesn’t exist anymore. I’m a humanitarian._

Almost a week passed since the time when Fukawa told her about Yuta. Then, one day, Naegi had the worst of ideas: to try and go inside her room.

TOC TOC. “Asahina-san, may I enter please?”.

Her grunt should have been enough to discourage him. It didn’t.

“Asahina-san! Please, don’t leave me here. I must speak to you”.

Ten minutes went by. She was laid on the bed, still floating in her personal sea of nothing; he was outside, trying to make her open that damned door.

Then, in a little miracle, a small dose of will told her to go and do what he said.

“Oh, thank you very much” he said timidly. He looked like he was ashamed to have made her move.

When he tried to come in she didn’t budge. That was the best she could concede.

“...what do you want?”. She spoke like a corpse would if it could speak.

“Well, you see… something happened and I thought you should know about it…”.

“...who died this time?”.

“What? No, nobody died”.

“...I don’t believe it. My parents and Yuta died. Your parents died. Fukawa’s parents died. Kirigiri’s father died. Togami’s butler died. Everybody died”.

“No, not everybody. I’m not kidding, this time no one died! It’s the opposite in fact, we found Kenichiro-san. He’s alive!”.

_Kenichiro…_

Kenichiro, Sakura’s boyfriend. The only fighter the Ogre couldn’t defeat. The person who, after falling ill, gave her the title of Strongest in the World and made her promise to return it once he got better.

And now she was dead and he was alive. Cruel irony.

Ok, everything was sunshines and sparkles (not really). But why did he come to tell her this?

“...why are you here exactly?”.

Makoto started to get worked up, presumably trying to come up with the right words: “Asahina-san, the fact is… we haven’t told him yet… about Oogami-san…”.

“...he doesn’t know?”.

“He’s still quite weak, we chose not to give him that sad news. Not yet at least, because sooner or later we will have to…”.

“...and what about me?”.

“You know, she was… your best friend… maybe… maybe you’re the one better suited for this…”.

“...don’t be stupid”.

“What?”.

“...have you seen my face, Naegi? How can I go and tell Kenichiro that Sakura, the girl he loves, committed suicide?”.

“Not now, of course! You can let some time pass and…”.

“...I don’t want to”.

“I’m sorry?”.

“...I said I don’t want to. I won’t tell him”. While saying that she slammed the door on his mug. She guessed he stayed there like a frozen fish, watching the handle.

Naegi must have had gone crazy to come up with that nonsense. While he may never have been someone who thought of grandiose plans, never he stooped so low. At least that’s what she honestly thought of him in that moment.

She went back to bed, letting apathy be her best friend again.

Other days went by. The situation didn’t change.

One morning Asahina got up less worn out than usual. She didn’t understand the cause, but she felt a little closer to what she used to be: her face was better (although her mood wasn’t the best), she again had the will to do something worthwhile… and, best of all, a small smile.

She looked at herself in the mirror, quite amazed. Not in the best of shapes, and surely not even close to the exuberant girl she was during her school days… but something was there. Something that made her hope for the better, or at the very least telling her that she could make it.

She took a deep breath.

“Ok Aoi, Kenichiro is waiting for you. You must be the one who tells him about what happened to Sakura”.

 

*

 

**Acceptance**

 

“Makoto”.

“Uh? What do you want, Komaru? In case you didn’t see I should be working right now”.

“How do you do it?”.

“Do what?”.

“How do you stay so calm when you know what happened… to mom and dad?”.

“Really good question, my dear sister. But I wanna ask you: what makes you think I’m really calm?”.

“Oh, I don’t know. For example the fact that you’re not on the floor crying all of your tears, like I did when you people told me”.

“What makes you think I didn’t?”.

“You did?”.

“Of course I did. For God’s sake, they were our parents. What kind of stone-hearted person would not have?”.

“It’s just that now you seem so… at peace…”.

“Komaru, for once let me be the smartass older brother: living what I lived gives you a different perspective. Kibougamine has been a dreadful, painful, terrible teacher and it teached me life. I already told you what more or less happened to me while I was there, didn’t I?”.

“You did. And I can’t even fathom what you went through”.

“If you want I can be more precise. Do you?”.

“...I will regret it but yes, I do want”.

“Then get yourself ready for a long, contorted journey into terror”.

“Please, don’t move your arms like a bad animatron at the amusement park. You can’t be taken seriously”.

“Sorry. Just trying to be a little showy. Well, the Killing Game… it has been a traumatic experience, the likes of which nothing else can hope to rival. I saw everything and its opposite there. Starting with the corpse of Maizono-san in my shower”.

“S-Sayaka Maizono died in your shower?”.

“Yep. She asked me to switch our rooms, making me believe it was because she was scared. Instead she planned to kill someone and make me look like the culprit, counting on the place her intended victim would have been found. But this person didn’t agree and in the end it was him who killed her”.

“What?”.

“She targeted Kuwata-kun, but something in her plan must have gone wrong and he was the one who came to have breakfast with us the next morning. Now, how do you think I could have reacted to that?”.

“...”.

“You can’t say? C’mon Komaru, you know me”.

“You started to scream like a bitch, your eyes grew to epic proportions and you passed out?”.

“Roughly like that. To tell the truth I did pass out. You know, I was the one who discovered her body in the first place”.

“Oh my God…”.

“And then we had Oowada-kun killing Fujisaki-kun, guest starring Togami-san… and please don’t tell him I told you, or he’s gonna make me pay from here to eternity. And Celes-san dragging down Ishimaru-kun and Yamada-kun with her. And Oogami-san… kami, Oogami-san. What a horrific tale”.

“Why? Why is she worse than the others?”.

“Oogami-san killed herself to stop us from bickering”.

“Y-You… you are lying…”.

“I’d give everything for it to be different. But it’s just the truth, all the truth, nothing more than the truth. To cap it off, how can I forget when a conveyor belt, slowly but surely, was going to make my head meet with a trash compactor?”.

“...”.

“Left you without words, uh? Well, I can see why. I’m here because I was lucky and a selfless and stubborn AI interfered”.

“You were saved… by an AI?”.

“Yes. By an AI and an angel with a ramen cup on her lilac hair”.

“You’re losing me…”.

“Sorry, it’s a big mess and I can’t proceed properly. What I’m trying to say is... in those three weeks, I think I have understood what the word  _death_ truly means. I saw many different kinds of death: death of body, death of spirit, death of hope and death of clarity of mind. I’m not saying that what happened to dad and mom wasn’t tragic, because it was. I miss them Komaru, I miss them so much. But… but…”.

“What are you trying to make me understand?”.

“Damn, I will seem insensitive… but I got used to losing someone, even if I didn’t want to. I got used to the feeling of emptiness. I got used to not being able to listen to their voices anymore. It happened to me many times in the past, and if you’re strong enough you outlive it. You fall on your knees, you shout and you beg and you cry for the ones who aren’t alive anymore… and then you get up. I’m sure they would not want anything different for you”.

“Would you believe me if I said that, in this very moment, you sound and look like a wise Buddhist master?”.

“Are you making fun of me?”.

“No Makoto, I’m not. Your words and the way you said them… they were incredibly enlightened. Trust me, I’m envying you right now”.

“It’s a form of envy I could do without, even though I feel flattered. Another thing: a moment of dejection is nothing to be ashamed of. We’re humans after all and we are tied to our emotions and our dearest ones, maybe stupidly. If they go away I think it’s only natural to feel taken aback and suffer for it”.

“Well, I can officially say your aura of righteousness has just flown away”.

“You’re really a dummy. Come here now, hug me”.

GLOMP. CRASH.

“Ehi! I said to do it, but that doesn’t mean you had to make me fall off the chair!”.

“My big wise monk brother deserves this and much more. You’re really important to me and I sincerely hope the moment we will part ways will come in a very distant future”.

“I love you too, little rascal. Ehi, you’re crying…”.

“Sorry, I’m just the sister of the wise old man. I’m not at his level”.

“His level *sniff* yeah sure whatever…”.

“Makoto…”.

“I told you, didn’t I? Moments of dejection are allowed. Besides, if your obnoxious younger sister provokes you…”.

“I didn’t provoke you!”.

“You did! Changing the subject, were you right in thinking you’d regret all of this?”.

“Absolutely not. It was an interesting dialogue, even though it was chilling”.

“I lived through what I just told you”.

“And still you’re the same, old, bright Makoto Naegi. You’re amazing brother, for real”.

“I don’t believe that, but if I am then you can be too. We share the same genes after all”.

“Stop it, stupid!”.

“Why should I, Komaru? I really think that”.

“...thank you. As long as you’re with me, I won’t miss dad and mom that much”.

 

**Bonus: Cure**

 

What a day. Without a doubt the most heavy since they escaped from Kibougamine. Hagakure was feeling very guilty because of his serenity.

The others received bad news after bad news, identified bodies and grieved and were all clearly devastated; on the contrary he didn’t spill one single tear, at least not for himself. His mother Hiroko was very much alive and he thanked every deity in the world for that gift.

He still felt like an asshole for being so happy while his friends were weeping for their loved ones: he saw Naegi trying to stay strong and support his sister when they were told about the death of their parents; Kirigiri lost her grandfather (who was alive, but so distant in regards to her father that she ended up disowning him); Togami had a crisis with his butler’s passing; Asahina crumbled when notified of her brother’s death, and he just watched powerlessly while thinking that it was just the beginning. No need to be the Super Clairvoyant to know it.

He sighed, a long and tired sigh. What kind of world was that? A world where young kids like them had been forced to kill each other, bury the ones who couldn’t make it and recognize the dead. A quick thought went out to Junko Enoshima, the mother of all that despair.

_Ah ah, despair. I suck as a comedian._

“You ok, Yasu-chi?”.

He turned towards his mother, who just entered the snack area where he and his friends spent the evening.

“Oh, I'm fine” he answered, thanking her for the cup of coffee she brought him “I just feel guilty”.

“Guilty of what?”.

“Well” he stammered “today was a good day for me, after all. You are alive” he smiled “thanks to Fukawa-chi. But they…” he said pointing to the rest of the group, so haphazardly sleeping on the couches of the snack area. He smiled again when Togami let a snore escape his lips, ruining his image of inflexibility.

Hiroko inspired from her cigarette: “You have nothing to blame yourself for, Yasu-chi. It’s not your fault for their tragedies”.

He pouted in a childish way: “I know, but it’s not easy for me knowing that I can’t help them. Apart from giving them handkerchiefs and offering my shoulder for them to cry on, I mean”.

“You think that’s not enough?” she beamed “Don’t underestimate the small things, those are what people value the most. In situations like this, it’s nice to have someone you know you can rely on, someone who can help you if need be” she said, making a mess of his son’s dreadlocks. She went away lamenting that her cigarettes were almost finished, so she was going to buy them at the vending machine down the lobby.

Hagakure remained alone observing his friends asleep. The words of his mother echoed in his head and he agreed: he was innocent and he couldn’t do nothing more than what he was already doing. If he had been a necromancer he would had surely brought back their loved ones, and maybe even the rest of their class. It would be good to have them as part of the Foundation. But a necromancer he was not, and besides he didn’t like zombies very much.

His best bet to help them was moral support.

Why wait, then? He fetched two blankets from the storage closet (working until late wasn’t just a figure of speech at Future Foundation). One was for the human domino made by Naegi, who was hugging his sister, and Kirigiri; the other one for Togami and Fukawa (unexpectedly close, he happily thought). “Ah Togami-chi, you’re starting to get dangerous with alcohol, you know?” he lightly laughed, taking the empty beer bottle from his hand.  _It’s a miracle we’re not a bunch of alcoholics, I must say._ His mind raced to Asahina, still closed in her apartment, and he darkened: the night was over and he couldn’t do anything for her, but he made a mental note. Perhaps he would buy her the best donuts the market had to offer, or he was going to cook them himself (hoping not to blow up his apartment).

He sat down and tried to set himself the best he could, using his jacket as a blanket.

It had been a heavy day, even for him.

He was tired of seeing his friends suffer.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, here we are.  
> This is the first time I (Subutai Khan) and my dear friend Mana Sputachu publish something in English. So please, bear with us and with our not so excellent skills. I think the story is comprehensible, but I'm sure it will sound... how can I say, somewhat chaotic? Or maybe too pedantic.  
> Whatever. I'm sure it could have been presented in a better style, but I don't really care that much. The important thing is that you can understand what we are saying, and I'm confident we did ok in that regard.  
> Every single comment, kudos and any form of approval is welcome.  
> Thank you in advance.


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